YouTubers
by Lolzersgirl
Summary: AU. AbsolutelyInvincibleBritishGentleman, a new guitarist and singer that's incredibly popular with both women and men. HamburgerHero101, an American Let's Play! gamer. LeFrenchKiss:3, ZeMostAwesomestPrussian and Tomatoesareafruitdumbass, a vlogging trio. What do they all have in common? A certain video site. Vague shippings: GerIta, FrUK, USUK, SpaMano, much more. R&R
1. AbsolutelyInvincibleBritishGentleman

**A/N: hey! So, this is based of a tumblr post, that was not meant to be serious that said: "AU where all the countries are YouTubers." And I was like, you know what, that sounds Awesome! Tell me if this had been done before, and if it has I'm so sorry!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story, other than my interpretations of Scotland, Ireland, Northern Ireland, Wales and the Isle of Man. **

**Disclaimer 2: I do not own "Viva La Vida" by Coldplay. **

**Characters in this chapter: Arthur Kirkland/Human!England, Alistair Kirkland/Human!Scotland. **

* * *

Arthur sighed, plopping his lithe body onto his bed, face buried in the pillows. After contemplating whether or not it was worth getting out of the warmth of his clothes, he decided that he would probably need them fairly decent for the next day. Standing up, he stripped from his school uniform and decided to put on a black T-shirt - with '_Sex Pistols_' and the Union Jack printed over the front - along with black skinny jeans.

He sat back on his bed, reaching for the laptop that was currently placed haphazardly under his bed. Flipping it open, he pressed the round button to turn the machine on. Placing it besides himself, he stood and reached for his acoustic guitar - which was also placed carelessly under his bed - and plucked a few strings.

After checking that all of his strings were in-tune, he placed it on his lap and leaned over for the laptop. He brought up iMovie, entering the words:

"Viva La Vida,  
by Absolutely Invincible British Gentleman."

Admittedly, it wasn't the most amazing username in the world, but, at the time, all of the other names he could think were occupied.

Enabling the webcam, bringing up the recording app he had installed and placing his arms and hands over the guitar, he clicked the 'Record' button with his toe.

'_5, 4, 3, 2, 1._'

Arthur ducked his head and smiled at the camera, waving shyly. He brought his hand back to the guitar and took his head out of view, purely out of self-consciousness.

Plucking the strings of his guitar, to the melody of _Viva La Vida_, he wracked his brain for the notes and lyrics, both of which he had memorised. Throughout the song, he mentally ticked off all of the notes he had played.

_'C, D, G, Em,'  
'C, D, G, Em,'  
'(Em), C, D,' _  
"I used to rule the world,"  
_'G, Em,'_  
"Seas would rise when I gave the word,"  
_'C, D,'_  
"Now in the morning I sleep alone,"  
_'G, Em,'_  
"Sweep the streets I used to own."  
_'C, D, G, Em,'  
'C, D, G, Em,'_

_'(Em), C, D,'_  
"I used to roll the dice,"  
_ 'G, Em,'_  
"Feel the fear in my enemy's eyes,"  
_'C, D,'_  
"Listen as the crowd would sing,"  
_ 'G, Em,'_  
"'Now the old king is dead! Long live the king!'"

_'(Em), C, D,'_  
"One minute I held the key,"  
_'G, Em,'_  
"Next the walls were closed on me."  
_'C, D,'_  
"And I discovered that my castles stand,"  
_'G, Em,'_  
"Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand."

_'C, D,'_  
"I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing,"  
_'G, Em,'_  
"Roman Cavalry choirs are singing."  
_'C, D,'_  
"Be my mirror, my sword, and shield."  
_'G, Em,'_  
"My missionaries in a foreign field."

_'C, D,'_  
"For some reason I can't explain,"  
_'G, Em, C, D,'_  
"Once you go there was never, never an honest word,"  
_'Bm, Em,'_  
"That was when I ruled the world."

_'C, D, G, Em,'  
'C, D, G, Em,'  
'(Em), C, D,_'  
"It was the wicked and wild wind,"  
_'G, Em,'_  
"Blew down the doors to let me in."  
_'C, D,'_  
"Shattered windows and the sound of drums,"  
_'G, Em,'_  
"People couldn't believe what I'd become."

'(Em), C, D,'  
"Revolutionaries wait,"  
'G, Em,'  
"For my head on a silver plate."  
'C, D,'  
"Just a puppet on a lonely string."  
'G, Em,'  
"Oh who would ever want to be king?"

_'C, D,'_  
"I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing,"  
_'G, Em,'_  
"Roman Cavalry choirs are singing."  
_'C, D,'_  
"Be my mirror, my sword, and shield,"  
_'G, Em,'_  
"My missionaries in a foreign field."

_'C, D,'_  
"For some reason I can't explain,"  
_'G, Em,'_  
"I know Saint Peter will call my name."  
_'C, D,'_  
"Never an honest word,"  
_'Bm, Em,'_  
"But that was when I ruled the world."

_'C, Em,'_  
_'C, Em,'_  
_'C, Em,'_  
_'D,'_  
_'D,'_  
_'C, D, G, Em,'_

"Oh~ Oh~ Oh~ Oh~ Oh~"

_'C, D,'_  
"I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing,"  
_'G, Em,' _  
"Roman Cavalry choirs are singing."  
_'C, D,'_  
"Be my mirror, my sword, and shield,"  
_'G, Em,'_  
"My missionaries in a foreign field."

_'C, D,'_  
"For some reason I can't explain,"  
_'G, Em,' _  
"I know Saint Peter will call my name."  
_'C, D,'_  
"Never an honest word,"  
_'Bm, Em,'_  
"But that was when I ruled the world."  
_'C, D, Bm, Em,'  
'Fade...'_  
"Oh~ Oh~ Oh~"

He sighed stopping his singing and strumming before ducking his head gain and smiling at the camera, giving another wave, albeit hesitantly. He clicked the blinking, red button in the corner of the screen, and closed the app. Opening iMovie, he dragged the video from the cleverly named 'Video' section, placing it after the opening.

His videos clearly weren't hard to make, nor were they incredibly high quality, but yet, he had 276,582 subscribers and counting. He usually got comments about his accent, his voice, his skills... But mostly, his eyes. He really didn't know why, but his eyes seemed to be the main attraction. He guessed it was the fact that they were, admittedly, an almost unnatural colour, but he hadn't gotten a proper answer when he asked his friends, they either mumbled incoherently, or straight up didn't answer the question.

Going through the usual procedures YouTube forced upon its users, he waited until he got to the loading screen before putting his guitar back under the bed, which he had now decided would be it's keeping place from here on out.

A knock at the door pulled him out of the trance that YouTube's loading bar had put him in, he looker up at his door and stated that it was open.

His brother, Alistair Kirkland, poked his head into Arthur's room, his flaming red hair contrasting with the grass-green of Arthur's walls. Said blond groaned, flopping onto his back.

"What do you want?"

Alistair smirked, walking into the room. "Just wanted to tell ya that, you're girly singing is adorable!"

Arthur growled - legitimately growled - and turned to his second eldest brother, glaring heatedly and the Scot.

"I am _not_ adorable. Nor am I girly." He practically hissed, baring his teeth at the Scotsman.

"Aye, of _course_ not..." Alastair replied sarcastically, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning against the wall. "Any comments?"

Arthur raised one of his, rather bushy, brows, sitting up and looking back at the laptop. It turned out that the video had stopped progressing and had been published. "Give me a second..." He trailed off, refreshing the page and watching the comments section. He gaped at the amount.

"How many?" Alistair asked, trying to catch a peek of the screen, from across the room.

"... Ninety-seven..." Arthur replied refreshing the page again. "Scratch that, it's five-hundred and seventy-six now..."

"Honestly?" Alistair gawked, walking over to his brother and perching on the bed, looking at the glowing laptop over his brother's shoulders. Indeed, there was a lot of comments.

"Aw! Me wee brother's famous!"

"Alistair- _ALISTAIR, GET OFF._" Arthur clawed at his sibling's arms, which were currently wrapped around his torso, in a vice-like grip. Alastair chuckled, letting go of the blond and walking to the door, stopping before walking out.

"Dylan said dinner's gonna ready in about ten minutes." He called, walking out of the door.

"Wait, I thought Patrick was making tea tonight?" Arthur asked in hope, hoping his Irish brother hadn't prepared the meal.

"He is! Dylan just wanted me to tell ya!" Alastair chucked, walking down the staircase, and, effectively into the living room.

"_ALISTAIR, YOU ARSE_!" Arthur shouted, burying his face into his pillow. At least nobody could muck up pizza... Right?

* * *

**Well... Yeah, that happened...**

**tell me what you think! ^.^ next chapter will be comments on Arthur's video and Francis gets introduced! If you have an idea for Francis's username, tell me! **

**R&amp;R.**


	2. LeFrenchKiss:3

**A/N: Soo... This was a quick update, huh? /shot**

**okay,okay, this is really late. Please, don't pelt me with scones, I'm sorry! D:**

**So, after talking with one of my awesome friends, I decided that half of this will be a High School AU too, mainly so they can interact in person, and also because high school AUs are fruking awesome, okay? **

**Problem, the ASS - American Schooling System - is a legitimate ass, and I don't understand it, so, I'm setting this all in England, and will be using the ESS - English Schooling System.**

**ON WITH THE MOTHERFRUKING STOREH.**

* * *

Francis sighed, scrolling through the depths of YouTube. He came upon a range of cat videos, vines, brony videos, more cat videos, and various versions of "Let It Go", all of which he either found boring - the varieties of the Disney song -, odd - the brony videos - or had watched before - the vines and every, single, one of the cat videos.

Just as he was about to log on to Tumblr, a bright, green, guitar caught the French boy's attention. He looked at the thumbnail of the video, of which, showed a teen with wheat-blond hair, pale, yet fair, skin, and an emerald acoustic guitar within the blond's hands.

Letting his eyes gaze at the title, he clicked the blue, underlined, letters and waited for his laptop to load the video. After the notebook fully loaded the page, Francis clicked the play button, the buffering sign appearing for a maximum of three seconds.

Laughing slightly at the generic iMovie opening, Francis got comfortable in his office chair, twisting his hips and swinging his long legs slightly. Getting bored, the blue-eyed boy went to click a Let's Play!, but even before his cursor could change into a pointing hand, a most miraculous green dragged his attention away from the Halo 2 video.

Looking back at the video, Francis gaped, pausing the uploaded recording.

"Mon dieu..." The blond muttered, staring at the almost harlequin green orbs, a soft pang of déjà vu hitting him - though he forgot about it, questing it was his mind playing tricks on him -, and also checking for any possible sign of editing. Upon seeing none, the teen compared the similarity between the harlequin irises, and the kelly green of the blond's guitar. Clicking - which commanded the video to continue playing - he forgot about the gaming video.

When the teens face went out of view, the vlogger was almost disappointed, frowning and placing his chin in his palm; he was not disappointed, however, when the teen started strumming on the guitar.

And he certainly wasn't disappointed when the blond began to sing.

Francis bobbed his head up and down, in rhythm with song, humming along, too. He scrolled down to the comments, reading a few of the praising messages. It seemed he wasn't the only one to notice the boys bright green eyes, as many other users of the website had asked if he had edited it.

Continuing to scroll down the page, whilst sill bopping his head to the singing, Francis grimaced at a few less-than-polite comments.

**Pezcandy1357924680**

** Fag dis is stupid. you cant even sing**

The French boy growled, reading the replies the comment had received.

**Inittowinit19**

** Ikr? XD**

**HamburgerHero101**

** Dude, shut up, it's not as if you could sing any better. You're whole channel is just links to porn websites, so stop hating on people that are clearly more talented than you. And, plus, at least this dude knows how to fucking spell.**

The smile returned to the Parisian's face, liking the longest comment and flagging the other two, realising that the song had ended whilst he was reading through the comments.

Clicking the subscribe button, Francis ventured onto the Brit's channel.

That was when he realised the reason for the déjà vu.

This was Arthur Kirkland.

His arch nemesis.

His ex-best friend.

His crush.

Boy, this was going to be fun.

* * *

**A/N: Short chapter is short.**


	3. Tell Me You're Bloody Joking

"¡Hola, Francis! ¿Qué tal?"

Francis turned around, looking over the his shoulder. Upon seeing the Spanish boy greeting him, his default smile broke into a grin, his azure eyes sparkling. "Bonjour, Antonio! Bien, merci! Ça va?"

The Spaniard greeted him with an equally as excited grin, sitting on the lunch table Francis was leaning on, his lime green eyes wide with enthusiasm. "¡Bien, gracias!" He leaned over to the French teen, wrapping his tanned arms around his shoulders. "I haven't seen you in ages! Did you get up to anything over the holidays?" He enquired, letting go of the blond and leaning back on his arms, tilting his head, his grin still fixed onto his features.

"Oh! I updated the blog, and went back to Paris for a while!" He replied, placing his phone, that he had been using to scroll through Tumblr, into his blazer pocket, the GIFset he had been looking at forgotten.

After the about three minutes, an obnoxious cackling filled the air - though it did not belong to Gilbert, a Prussian-blooded German, who had joined them a couple of minutes ago, surprisingly enough; It belonged to Alfred F. Jones.

Alfred Fucking Jones.

Francis swivelled in his seat, his azure orbs locking with sky-blue. The Washingtonian smirked, sending the Parisian a two-finger salute, winking when his hand returned to his side. Francis scowled, eyeing the other blond with fuelled hatred. Alfred seemed to notice this, his usual grin becoming a dark frown, before his smirk returned, mischief glimmering in his blue orbs.

Alfred looped an arm around his 'best friend's shoulders, leading Arthur Kirkland to the lunch table, sitting a seat away from Gilbert, still smirking at the French boy. Arthur plopped onto the plastic seat between Gilbert and Alfred, placing his arms on the table, before resting his head in his arms, exhaling.

Over the top of the cockney's head, Francis and Alfred had a glaring match, snarling at each other. Antonio sighed, sharing an exasperated look with the 'Prussian', used to the antics. Gilbert broke the gaze, looking at the Londoner beside him. Arthur looked like he was asleep, and Gilbert would have thought so, too, if it weren't for his quite mumblings.

Lifting his head - and, unknowingly, breaking the glaring match between the American and the Frenchman - Arthur took out his phone, inputting his password.

Gilbert took a mental note that it began with "ig" and ended with "su".

The blond opened 'Messages' reading a few texts from Alistair, telling him that he would be home late, and a text from Peter - his younger brother - that he was a jerk.

After replying to both - a simple "alright" to Alistair and a rather rude message to Peter - the Briton looked up, finding azure eyes looking at him, amusement in their depths.

"What is it frog-face?" The Brit asked, opting to glare at the his French classmate.

"I was just thinking, mon cher..."

"Thinking about what?"

"How on earth you consider yourself a gentleman."

"... What?" Arthur questioned; his gentlemanly attitude had faded a year or two back, when he took to a more punk-like attitude and appearance.

"I have no clue how you consider yourself ''absolutely invincible'' either..."

Green eyes widened, staring in disbelief at Francis. A nervous laugh escaped Arthur, still staring in slight confusion at the Frenchman.

"I-I have no idea what you're talking about..." He stuttered, his voice quivering. Alfred, Antonio and Gilbert watched the exchange, confusion practically radiating from the trio.

"Oh, really? Hmm... Oh well." Francis replied. "I had no idea that you like Coldplay though."

At that, Arthur's glittering eyes seemed to pop out of his skull, his mouth completely agape.

"Y-you-... You didn't! Tell me you're bloody joking!" Arthur complained, his eyebrows furrowing in anger and distraught.

Francis smirked, seemingly finding the blond's reaction hilarious. "Didn't what, mon ami?" He asked, oblivious to the glare a certain American was sending him.

"You... You found my YouTube?" Arthur whispered, now leaning across the table to make the conversation private. The French teen nodded. "Shit." Arthur swore under his breath, placing a hand over his mouth and sitting back on his seat, his entrancing eyes staring into space.

Alfred looked between the two, thoroughly confused. "Okay, the fuck is going on?" Alfred questioned, eyes still darting between the other two blonds. Francis ignored him, infuriating the Washingtonian.

Meanwhile, Gilbert was clicking his fingers in front if the Brit's eyes, trying to snap him out of his trance of-sorts. The albino looked at Francis, a platinum blond eyebrow raised.

'RING, RING, RING.'

Arthur immediately snapped out of his trance, glaring at Gilbert's fingers. "What the hell are you doing, Gil?"

Gilbert retracted his hand, chuckling at the (in his opinion, adorable) pout on the Briton's face. Grabbing his bag from underneath the table, the German winked at the other four boys, slinging the backpack over one shoulder.

"See ya later, bitches!" He exclaimed, waltzing towards the door, and, effectively towards his form room*.

A series of goodbyes were drowned in the crowd of students.

Arthur walked out of the canteen, grabbing his bag from outside the door and slinging the strap over his shoulders. Alfred, Antonio and Francis followed, all grabbing their respective bags from the pile of satchels, backpacks and the like.

Antonio and Arthur headed the same way Gilbert had, waving a vary of goodbyes at Francis and Alfred. Francis said something to the retreating teens in rapid French, received a middle finger from Arthur and an unheard remark from the Spaniard.

After the two had turned a corner, Francis walking down the hallway, completely disregarding the one-way-system. Alfred growled, trudging after the other, shoving his hands into his blazer pockets.

.: WorldxXxEngland :.

Throughout the 30 minutes of form, Arthur chatted to Kiku Honda, a Japanese teen that the Brit had known since Primary school.

"So, he found your channel?" Kiku asked.

"Yeah." Arthur clarified, banging his head on the table.

"And he knew it was you?"

"Yeah."

"That's not good."

"No, Kiku. It's not good, at all."

* * *

**A/N: So, herro! ^^**

**Quicker update than last time atleast, ^^; **

**So, as I said last chapter, this IS going to be half School AU, half YouTuber AU. Though the YouTuber aspect will be throughout.**

**ALSO.**

**WORLDXENGLAND. AH. MY FEELS FOR THIS.**

**So, someone suggested PrUK and I fruking love that pairing, so yes, that shall be in here!**

**List of pairings without Arthur: PruHun, PruAus, AusHun, PruCan, PoLiet, RoChu, Ameripan (possibly), AmeCan (only brotherly D:), Smamano, GerIta.**

**Pairings WITH Arthur: FrUK, USUK, PrUK, SpUK, AsaKiku, GerEng, Engmano (oh god I love this ship), EngIta, RusEng, Maple Tea, AusEng/EngAus. Mostly hinted/one-sided.**

**ALSO. FrUS.**

**I shivered typing that. I'm sorry. I can ship almost EVERYTHING in Hetalia, from Maple Tea to Itacest. But FrUS will forever be my NOTP. So sorry FrUSers, but this story shall have none of it. (But, if you want, the rivalry for Arthur CAN be TAKEN as sexual tension, but it's not supposed to be.)**

**Oh, and, before I forget:**

*** Form Room - In England, we have form for half an hour before classes start. Form is basically registration and a chance to get homework done (I just use it to talk to Avarni (youknowwhoyouare)). The form room is a normal classroom, but for that first half hour, classrooms are used as form rooms. We also have a five minute form time before the last two periods and after lunch. **

**(THIS AN IS GONNA BE LONGER THAN THE CHAPTER, JESUS)**

**Also, house colours (these are roughly based off of what Hogwarts house I think they'd be in) ((I will also think of names for the teams later))**

**\- Green: Arthur, Antonio, Ludwig, Lovino, Kiku, Ivan**

**\- Red: Alfred, Yao, Gilbert, Francis, **

**\- Yellow: Feliciano, Matthew, Chelsea (Seychelles)**

**OKAY. CIAO, MOTHERFRUKERS.**


	4. Bingo

**A/N: This is a really shitty chapter and I'm really sorry. **

**I do these fanfictions to improve my writing. Yet, my writing seems to still be bullshit.**

**so, sorry bout that.**

**Warnings- Mentions of lady parts, BJs, and swearing. **

**Also super kawaii Artie.**

* * *

He really was stupid.

Idiotic, even.

Believing Arthur - Arthur _Kirkland_ \- would forget about it. The Brit hadn't forgotten losing against him in chess, _four years ago_; he was terribly naïve to believe he would forget about an event that had happened a mere four hours before.

Yes, of _course_ he was going to forget his nemesis finding his YouTube channel.

Francis Bonnefoy was an idiot, and that's how he found himself pinned against a locker, white-knuckled hands gripping his blazer.

"_Jésus-Christ, ce qui la baise?!_" The French student shouted, looking down at the Londoner clawing at his uniform. The Brit glared at him, his emerald eyes lighting up with jade flames, his pupils dilating.

"I've got a deal to make, Toad." Arthur ground out, still glaring into the eyes of the other.

Francis tilted his head slightly, raising an eyebrow. "And this deal would be...? What exactly?" The Parisian asked, grabbing Arthur's hands, to try and pry them from his clothes.

"You don't tell anyone about my YouTube channel, and I do whatever you want, for a week. But you don't tell Antonio; you don't tell Gilbert; you don't tell _ANYONE_. And if you do, I will personally get Ivan to smash your skull with a lead pipe. Are we clear?" Arthur asked, standing on the balls of his feet to look Francis directly in the eye.

The French teen pondered over the other, looking around, though not really seeing. He bit his lip, wondering whether or not he would take up the offer. Maybe he could-

Bingo.

"No." Francis smiled.

"What do you mean, 'no'?" Arthur hissed.

"I do not expect that offer... Although." He commented, before smiling at the English student, rather flirtatiously. "If you did what I wanted for a month, then, _sûr._"

Arthur's eyes widened, before he looked down at his feet, letting go of Francis and crossing his arms. "... Two weeks."

"A month."

"Two weeks."

"A month, no less."

"Two weeks, that's as high as I'm goin'!"

"Hm... _Non._"

"Ugh! Fine... Three weeks."

"... Hm. You know what? Sure. Three weeks it is, _mon lapin._"

"It starts Monday. And I'm not a goddamn rabbit..."

The two shook hands, standing in front of each other until a - noticeably fake - cough came from behind them. Arthur turned, finding Alfred stood behind them, arms crossed. "Dude, you're kind of on my locker." He snorted.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, before pushing Francis out of the way - almost knocking him over, causing Alfred to suppress a chuckle - and checking the number of the locker. Seeing '19' above the lock, he turned to Alfred. "Sorry 'bout that."

Alfred snorted, taking his keys out of his pocket. "No prob', dude." The American commented, fitting his key in the lock. "What was that about anyway?" He asked, his back to both blonds. Arthur and Francis shared a look, before Arthur started pushing the Parisian out of the area, starting down the hall.

"Just settling an argument!" Arthur yelled, waving at Alfred and dragging Francis away. Francis raised an eyebrow, as the the position was rather awkward, as the French teen was taller.

"This is ridiculous. Seriously, what the fuck are you doing? I'm taller than you." Francis commented, digging his heels into the ground, drawing the Briton to a halt.

"Shut up. If I hadn't, you would have blurted the whole thing to Alfred - probably including the facts about my channel," Francis couldn't deny that. "Plus, you are not taller than me!"

Francis looked at the other incredulously. "Arthur, I am clearly taller than you."

"No you're not; we're both 68.9 inches!"

A loud cackle came from besides the two, "Yeah? Well I'm five metres!"

Arthur deadpanned, turning towards the German. "Fuck off." He commented. Gilbert let out his rather strange laugh again, placing his hands on his hips.

"What are you arguing about anyway?" He asked, placing his elbow on Francis's shoulder, tilting his head. Arthur sighed, flicking his head to get his hair out of his eyes, only for it to fall back into place.

"This git is saying he's taller than me." Arthur said, placing his weight on one leg, and crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's because I am!" Francis said, pouting. Gilbert stepped away from the blonds.

"Back to back."

The others complied, standing with their backs together. Gilbert placing his hand on Francis's head, before sliding it off, keeping it at the same height. When his place hand got to Arthur, only a few strands of hair touched his palm. "Sorry, Art, he's taller." The German said, smirking.

"What!? No he's not!" The other said, kneeling on the floor and lifting up Francis's foot, causing the French to loose his balance momentarily.

"What are you doing!?"

"Checking you're not wearing heels!"

Gilbert chortled, placing a hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking. "Erm... Iggy?"

"What? ... And don't call me that."

"Er... Well..." Gilbert kicked his lips, his eyes squinting. "I wouldn't kneel infront of him if I were you. It looks really weird from here." He said, letting loose a short cackle.

Francis caught on immediately, darting away from the shorter. "Gilbert! Fucking hell, no!" Francis groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I really hate you sometimes."

"Love you too, Franny."

Arthur still hadn't caught on. He stood, staring at Gilbert in confusion. "I don't get it." He commented, frowning.

"You know... You were _kneeling_ in front of a _boy_, your face near _there_." Gilbert hinted, tilting his head every time he exaggerated a word. Arthur still wore his bewildered expression.

"... I still don't get it!"

"... Seriously?" Gilbert asked, walking towards the Brit. Arthur nodded, still in thought. Gilbert smiled, hugging Arthur's shoulders. "_Ach mein Gott! Sie sind so süß!_" He all but yelled, picking up the blond and hugging him to his chest.

"Fucking hell, Gil! Put me down! You absolute twat!" The shorter squealed, thrashing in the grip. Gilbert put him down, instead choosing to pat his head.

"Do you even know what a twat is?" Gilbert asked, genuinely wanting to know.

"Gilbert!" Francis scolded, walking back towards the two. "He is too innocent for this!" He stated, placing his hands over the younger's ears.

"_GET OFF_!" Arthur yelled, aiming his elbow at the French teen's shoulder.

'_RING!_

_RING!_

_RING!'_

"Saved by the bell." Gilbert sniffed. "Well, _siehe ya!_" He yelled, walking away.

"_Bye, chienne!_" Francis yelled, turning away from Arthur. "_Ã plus tard_, Arthur!"

"Hopefully not." Arthur ground out, rolling his eyes. He stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets, heading towards the Science block.

Francis shook his head, heading on towards his form room, all the while pondering about the newly made deal.

_'I wonder what I could make him do...'_

Continuing on his way, he gazed around, looking around for someone to go to form with. Instead he found a poster for the Spring Disco.

_'Bingo.'_

* * *

**A/N: Told you it was shit.**

**Translations-**

**_Jésus-Christ, ce qui la baise - Jesus Christ, what the hell (French)_**

_**Sûr - Sure (French)**_

_**Mon lapin - If you don't know, get out**_

_**Ach mein Gott! Sie sind so süß - Oh my God! You're so cute! (German)**_


	5. Half of Tomatoesareafruitdumbass

**A/N: Mrawr. Well. Again, a quick update. ^^;**

**oh well, I bet you've all got other fanfics that y'all are following**

**anyways, so, Hinted Spamano is in this chap, so yay! ^^**

**ONWARDS.**

* * *

After Science, Arthur headed towards the canteen with Lovino Vargas, one of the three grandsons of the headmaster, Julius - or, known to students as, Mr. Vargas. He was, without a doubt, the fiercest of the triplets, with Feliciano being a rather air-headed person, and the youngest brother, Luigino, having an almost overpowering self-confidence.

The Italian was ranting to the Briton, yelling about a substitute teacher he had had for Spanish.

"I mean, if you're going to fucking choose a teacher to cover Spanish, they should know how to _FUCKING SPEAK SPANISH_." The Southern Italian seethed, gesturing wildly with his hands, his face burning in frustration.

Arthur chuckled, nodding in agreement. "I know what you mean, mate." He stated, then noticed the Italian's flush. "By the way, you look like an apple."

The brunet glared at the blond, his golden-speckled irises staring at him maliciously. "Don't fucking dare."

Arthur smirked. "Or maybe a raspberry..."

"Arthur."

"Or a strawberry..."

"Arthur!"

"Or, perhaps, a cherry..."

"_ARTHUR_!"

"Oh! I know! You look like tomato!"

A grin.

A yell.

"_ARTÙ_! YOU FUCKING BASTARD!"

A slap.

"Aw~ come on! You let your boyfriend say it!" Arthur whined, massaging his left cheek.

Lovino practically screamed, slapping a hand over Arthur's mouth. "_Dio mio, SHUT UP_! Do you know what would happen if Grandpa heard you!?"

Arthur, knowing he wouldn't be able to get the hand off, chose to cross his arms, and stare incredulously at the other European. He shook his head, a clear sign that had no idea.

Lovino exhaled heavily, massaging the bridge of his nose. "Right, do you remember when Feliciano and his boyfriend told Grandpa?"

After hesitating, Arthur nodded.

"What did he do in return?" He asked, removing his hand.

"... He went to Mr. Beilschmidt and complained about all of his relatives being gay?"

"And?"

"He then proceeded to kiss Mr. Beilschmidt?"

"... That too, but that's not what I mean. What happened after that?"

"..."

"Well?"

"... He went and had a private conversation with Ludwig and Feliciano...?"

"_Si_, and do you know what he told them?"

"No..."

"He told them about the 'birds and the bees'."

"... Huh?"

A sigh.

"You know... The 'frickle-frackle'?"

"..."

"The 'Bed Boogie'?"

"..."

"The 'Hookie Pookie'?"

"..."

"..."

"What?"

He swore to God, he was ready to rip his hair out. "_SEX, YOU FUCKING IDIOT_!"

"Oh... OH. _OH_."

"_Si_! And he described it very graphically."

"Ew."

"Yeah."

"... Aren't you going to the disco with him, though?"

Lovino sighed, leaning on the shaded wall of the Art Block. "I don't know." The brunet grumbled, moping.

Arthur pouted, halting his walking. "Lov, if you don't want to, he can't make you; but, if you do want to, there's nothing stopping you." Lovino still seemed to be pondering over the issue. "You do love Antonio, right?" He whispered.

Lovino looked up at his best friend, hesitating. He screwed his eyes shut, nodding in a way that only could be seen from from up-close.

"And he loves you?"

The Italian shrugged, opening his honey coloured eyes.

"Then, there's nothing stopping you; you could go together, and if anyone asks, just say you're going as mates! It's foolproof."

The Italian seemed to ponder this, biting the nail on his thumb. "... I'll talk to him about it, y'know, to see if he's fine going as friends."

Arthur smiled, glad he could help the younger.

Abruptly, Lovino looked up at him. "Are you going with anyone?"

Arthur's chartreuse eyes widened, staring into the hazel of his companions own irises. "N-no!"

Lovino nodded, looking back down, his side-fringe hanging over his eyes.

Arthur frowned, trying to think of something to cheer up the other. "Oh! Can you still do that collab'?" He asked, smiling, remembering about the YouTube video his best friend had agreed to make with him.

Essentially, it was going to be a 'Q&amp;A', to be posted on Lovino's channel - though, technically, the channel belonged to Antonio - to help boost the amount of subscribers for both. The two had planned it weeks ago, but neither could be arsed to actually start the damned thing.

Lovino immediately perked up, grinning up at the other. "Depends."

"On what?"

"When."

"Tonight."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"My bastard of a boyfriend's filming with his fuck-buddies."

"... Okay, tomorrow?"

"..._ Sicuro_."

The two smirked cheekily at eachother.

"My house."

"You sure?

"_Si_: I am not dealing with your brothers."

"Fair enough."

Lovino pushed off of the fence, resuming walking, Arthur following.

"Oh, yeah. About our YouTube channels..."

Lovino raised a brow, turning towards the other, and, effectively, walking backwards. "What about them?" The foreigner inquired, looking over his shoulder, to make sure he didn't bump into something or - heaven forbid - someone.

"Francis may have found mine..."

Lovino ceased in walking, staring in shock at the other. "What do you mean, 'found yours'?" He questioned.

"... I'm pretty sure he saw the Viva La Vida video, since he talked about Coldplay... But he definitely found my profile." The Brit rushed through his words, trying to make the explanation as short as possible.

Lovino stared at the other, face void of emotion, before the corners of his lips began to curl. "T-the Viva L-la Vida one?" He repeated, stifling his laughter.

"Yeah..."

A snort escaped the tanned boys nose, closely followed by cackling that could only be compared to a hyena. Lovino grabbed his stomach, his words coming out in hort gasps. "At lea- at least there's s-something to be h-happy about..."

Arthur raised an atrocious eyebrow, pissed off at the strange laughter his friend was emitting,

"You l-look really sexy in that video!"

Arthur promptly slapped him.

* * *

**By the way, I have SCS**

**Short Chapter Syndrome **


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